


From Now On

by wincestplaythings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Fingerfucking, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rimming, Sam/Dean - Freeform, Top!Sam, Wincest - Freeform, bottom!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-31 23:48:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3997792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wincestplaythings/pseuds/wincestplaythings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets jealous when a shifter gets handsy. Sam steps up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Now On

“You don’t have to do this,” Sam lamented for the fifth time, frantically stalling as he pulled at the bonds pinning his hands behind his back. Dean shot him a look, half-irritated that his little brother was revisiting the useless plea, and half-hoping Sammy had a plan.

Sam met his gaze and gave a subtle shake of his head, silent Winchester communication for _I got nothing_. Dean’s stomach dropped, his body losing hope before his stubborn will, his one-track _Save-Sammy_ mindset, had given up. Watching the shifter circle Sam, cold and calculating, Dean squirmed desperately, cursing god and whatever dick angel was listening in.

Dean had dropped his concealed knives in a tussle that shredded the legs of his jeans. It was the third time he saved Sam’s ass that night, tackling a shifter about to tear his brother to pieces and rolling halfway down the riverbank. Somehow, he had managed to take the guy down, never expecting the woman to pounce on Sam from behind. Before Dean had freed his blade from the shifter’s heart and shoved the body into the water, she had the barrel of his gun resting in the hollow of his baby brother’s neck. He had barely noticed the piles of skin from a recent face-change still pooled at her feet.  

Realizing Dean was at a loss too, Sam swallowed thickly and continued, “You can fight this. You don’t have to be a monster.”

“Yes, I do,” she sighed, running a hand across Sam’s chest. Dean’s jaw set as he fought his restraints harder, tearing and bleeding as the ropes broke skin. “I’m so bored. You have no idea.”

When she finished raking hot red nails across Sam’s chest, the shifter turned slowly and paced across the room, smiling crooked at Dean.

“Hmm. Didn’t like that much, did you? Protective big brother? Jealous lover?” She leaned in then, teeth grazing his ear. Dean shivered, ice rushing down his spine as she whispered, “Both?”

“Fuck off,” he muttered, leaning away from the breath on his neck as she laughed.

Her fingers slide beneath collar of his shirt before tearing it open, buttons flying in every direction. Her voice remained low and level as her fingertips grazed his skin, illustrating her point: “Oh, sweetie. It was just a hand. Just a chest. Just _a man_.”

Dean jerked away, eyes desperately searching for Sam across the room. When all he found was an empty chair and sagging ropes on the floor, he controlled his expression, not letting on that Sam had somehow freed himself from the ropes like freaking Houdini. Dean hoped for a second that his stupid, perfect, bitch of a brother, for once in his life, just ran. Got his ass out of there. Was safe.

_Yeah, like that’s ever going to happen._

The shifter leaned in again, still naked and bloody from her last change, blocking his view with a wall of curly hair. She faked a pout, voice dripping with sarcasm as she straddled his lap, pale legs curling around his waist and resting on the back of the chair. “You’re an articulate one, aren’t you? Must be fun at parties. Then again… shoulders like that…” She grinned, nails scratching down his biceps before grabbing his face. “What a mouth on you. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Dean caught a flash of something over her shoulder. He smirked, in control, but his voice was full of anger, almost a growl: “Just a man? _That man’s_ my brother. Mine. And I think you’re going to you’re your fucking hands off what’s mine.”

On his final syllable, her jaw dropped in a scream, the tip of a blade spearing her heart, the exit wound spraying blood over Dean’s exposed chest. Finally, she slide back, body limp, collapsing on the floor at his feet.

“Jesus Christ,” Sam muttered, tapping the body with the toe of his boot before rounding the chair to untie his brother.

“Dude. I take it back. Shifters are grosser than witches,” Dean grimaced, glancing at the blood smeared down his torso and pooling at his waist, soaking into his jeans.

“You massacred your wrists, man.” Sam said, gently placing his brother’s hands on his lap, as if his arms were broken. Dean let him, closing his eyes at the touch, just for a moment.

He forced a cough before letting Sam help him to his feet, adding, “Yeah, I need a shower.” 

Sam laughed, trying to hide the shake to his hands as he grabbed onto the sides of Dean’s torn shirt, adjusting it to cover his brother’s exposed shoulders. “How the hell am I supposed to get you into the motel? You look like Robinson Crusoe. Stranded on an island for six months. Went insane and bathed in hog blood. Or got attacked by a zombie hoard.”

Dean shrugged, locating the handgun the shifter had swiped before tucking it into the back of his ruined jeans and making his way towards the door. “I’ve got clothes in the car.  New question… why the hell does everyone think we’re gay?”

“Maybe because you say shit like, ‘keep your fucking hands off what’s mine’.” Sam was smirking, but his voice was off, self-conscious.

“Oh, come on, man! You try coming up with a clever distraction when the psycho bitch in your lap is about to get skewered.” Dean nursed his broken skin like it could comfort his bruised ego. Sam stared in concern, watching Dean’s fingers as they circled his wounded wrists. Just like that, he dropped the subject.

“Let’s get you out of here.”

 

* * *

 

When Dean had finished cleaning up, he exited the motel bathroom, covered by nothing than a clean pair of jeans and the warm water clinging to his skin. Sam was reclined with a beer, guarding the first aid kit as if it would disappear before Dean got out of the shower.

“The water pressure actually doesn’t suck,” Dean muttered conversationally. When Sam didn’t respond right away, Dean begrudgingly sitting across the table from his brother, sticking both arms out and waiting to be mended.

“Bet it stung,” Sam sighed, selecting medical tape and gauze slowly from the assortment, pretending he hadn’t already gone through their supplies twice. While he bandaged one hand, Sam nodded towards the beer on the table. “That’s yours... like me. Apparently.”

Dean groaned, shifting under his brother’s gaze. “Dude, I was an inch away from becoming a kebab. Give me a break.”

“You get she was a pair of jeans away from riding you, right?” Sam asked, sounding like an accusation.

Surprised, Dean replied with a harsh laugh, “Horny bitch was grinding down to town, but I played it cool. I think she was a bit disappointed, actually.” 

A blunt nail dug into the raw skin of his wrist, biting into an open cut. Dean jumped – the pain wasn’t unbearable, but he wasn’t expecting it.  He didn’t realize until Sam pulled away that he had kicked his little brother in response. Or that their legs had been intertwined. How hadn’t he noticed that?

“What the hell?” Dean sputtered, pushing his chair away from the table so fast he almost tipped over.

“You kicked me!” Sam yelled back. He grabbed at his sore leg like it was evidence.

“Only because you were playing Hot Nurse then went all Edward Scissorhands on me,” Dean grumbled, sitting down and reaching for the last of the bandages. Sam grunted and swatted Dean’s hands away, his thumb rubbing slow circles to spread an antibiotic cream over his brother’s gash.

“How’d you even do this to yourself?” Sam muttered as he finished taping the last gauze, holding onto Dean’s hand longer than necessary and staring, as if checking his work, before surrendering it back. “Seriously, Dean, it looks like someone was pulling you behind their truck by the rope. You were just sitting there. I’ve never seen you do this to yourself before.”

Dean grunted, focusing on the cold beer in his hands, desperately grasping for a rational, brotherly, totally platonic answer. “Just… fighting the good fight.” 

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Why? Because she was touching me?”

“Because she was touching you like _that._ Probably gave you the clap, brother.” Dean forced a laugh, trying to dismiss him. Trying to talk about anything else. He wasn’t sure he could handle where this was going.

Sam sighed, throwing his hands up in surrender. “Those bruises are going to stick around for a while. What’s the cover story?”

Before he could think it through, Dean bantered, “Kinky sex.”

He laughed before freezing up, raising a hand, insisting, “Wait- No, Sammy, I didn’t mean you-”

Dean barely got a few words out before Sam leaned forward, staring intensely. Voice scary-calm, he replied, “Yeah, Dean. You did.”

Sam stood and paced for a minute before crouching in front of his brother, making a place for himself between his brother’s knees. Voice low, he asked carefully, “Dean… do you remember the last time we were in a bar? And the time before that, and the time before that…”

Dean licked his lips, mouth dry as Sam’s hands roamed over his bare torso. “Yeah.”

Sam didn’t break eye contact, tracing his fingertips over the tattoo beneath Dean’s collarbone as his brother’s breathing picked up. “…And you cock-blocked me. Every weekend. For months. Because it was funny. While telling me every day in between that I needed to get laid and let off some steam.”

“I… y-yes.” Dean mumbled, eyes unable to break Sam’s gaze as fingers brushed over his sensitive nipples, making him squirm beneath the touch.

“How many times a day do I catch you watching? How many times have we pulled the newlywed cover over the past couple months? How many times has whatever we’re hunting thought we were fucking and tried to use it against us?” Sam leaned in, brushing his lips across his brother’s jaw. It was a soft, barely-there touch, yet somehow still so hot Dean thought he would combust.

“Dean… When you come screaming in your sleep, do you know whose name you cry out?”

Dean gasped, unsurprised but so turned on his head hurt. Sam waited, hands ghosting, refusing to touch like it was torture, until he got an answer. Finally Dean breathed, “Yours, Sammy. Only yours.”

Sam took his brother’s face in his hands, gentle but firm, coaxing Dean as he licked into his mouth, setting them both on fire. Sam waited for Dean to grow pliant, and then to grow desperate, before running his hands over Dean’s thighs – a teasing, rhythmic pressure everywhere but where Dean needed him most.  

Dean writhed. He hard enough to pound nails and so, so desperate to touch Sam anywhere, everywhere, but not sure how. He didn’t know what the fuck was going on. He wasn’t a stranger to the bedroom. He either stayed in control or kept his cool, but he didn’t get flustered and he certainly didn’t whimper. Except… he was.

“God, Sammy.” Dean gasped, arching into a touch that was barely there.

“Tell me what you want, Dean?” Sam asked, mouthing at the corner of his brother’s jaw. Dean bit his lip, trying to muffle a whine when Sam finally, _finally_ started palming at Dean’s throbbing dick through his jeans.

“You,” Dean panted, breathing heavy as he felt Sam’s grin against his neck. Dean hadn’t realized his hand reached up and woven through his brother’s hair, pulling tight as he rolled his hips against Sam’s perfect fucking hand, massaging just enough to drive him insane.

Sam constricted his grip lightly through his brother’s jeans, coaxing him on. “ _How_ do you want me?”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, throwing his head back, trying to make himself think. “God- S-Sammy, you know what you’re doing here, right? I- Fuck. Fuck, I- I want that. Whatever that is. Now.”

Sam swallowed, losing his cool for just a second. He buried himself in his brother’s neck, kissing and nipping in a way that left Dean moaning softly, arching into Sam’s mouth. “You trust me? Make you feel so good, Dean, if you let me. If you trust me.”

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean breathed, loosening his grip and gently dragging a hand through his brother’s hair with more control than he thought he could manage. Every nerve in his body was on fire. He sat up, searching for Sam’s lips. When he met them, sweet and rough all at once, he mumbled, “Do it, Sammy,” against his brother’s mouth.

Sam laughed gently before pulling away, tearing his own shirt off before slipping his hand beneath the waistline of Dean’s pants. “Not in this chair.”

Dean swallowed, nodding as Sam pulled him up by his belt loops and drew him close. “Right. Bed.” 

“Mmm,” Sam agreed, tugging at his brother’s jeans. Dean’s head was spinning too fast to take the hint. Impatient, Sam’s voice dropped an octave, demanding and full of obscene promises. “Off. Now.”

With a shiver, Dean obeyed. The moment he unbuckled and unzipped, Sam had pulled his jeans to the ground, mouthing at his hard length through the cotton of his briefs before they were dragged to his ankles too.

Dean moaned, trying so hard to be patient and quiet and just take whatever Sam gave him. He was scared as hell Sam was going to run away, or hate him, or stop touching. But as he felt Sam’s tongue – over his balls, up the length of his throbbing cock, worshipping his sensitive head with teasing licks that turned into toe-curling strokes, before sucking him down, hot and deep and tight – the little fears fell away, leaving only the soft wet sin of his brother’s mouth.

“Oh, God, Sammy… Sam, do you – do you want me to…” Dean panted, gently gripping his brother’s shoulder as Sam pulled off with a regretful smile. Dean pulled him up, smashing their mouths together, tasting himself as Sam steered him to the bed.

As Dean fell on his back, Sam pushed his knees to his chest, diving between his legs before either of them had time to think. His palm rolled against the head of his brother’s cock, collecting pre-cum to add to the slick of saliva, before dragging down to stroke his length, long and hard. As Sam built a rhythm that Dean seemed to enjoy, his mouth dove to mouth the underside of his brother’s balls, the pleasure so unexpected that Dean’s leg started to shake.

It only lasted a moment, so fucking good, before he was spreading Dean’s cheeks, aggressively lapping at the exposed hole without warning. Dean was overwhelmed, moaning and rocking his hips up into Sam’s stroking hand and back down into Sam’s face. Dean had never experienced anything like this – he was blown to fucking pieces. It wasn’t just what Sam was doing to him – although he had certainly never had anyone’s mouth _there_ – but the fact that his little brother knew how to do it, and was goddamn good at it.

Dean had never let anyone consume him like this – and the fact that it was Sammy who was doing it got to him. He could feel it in his chest, tenderness and adoration and passion, even while 99 percent of his brain was focused on Sam’s hand on his dick, and the wanton rolling of his own hips, and whatever the fuck Sam was doing to his hole – sweet as fucking sin.  

Finally, Sam released his cock before Dean was on the verge coming, taking a moment to grind his palm into his own throbbing dick where it was uncomfortably trapped beneath his jeans. He wrapped his massive hands around Dean’s shaking hips, holding his brother still as he worked his tongue in, spearing forward until Dean was whining and arching, trying to fuck himself on Sam’s mouth.

Dean was panting by the time Sam let him go, wiggling as cool air tickled his wet hole, slippery and clenching, loosened by Sam’s tongue. He whimpered as Sam freed his own straining cock from his jeans, slicking himself up. Dean only had a second to speculate whether he was getting everything he dreamed about when he woke up covered in sweat and come in the heat of the night. The knowledge that Sam had known about those secret moments, had thought about them enough to make him act on this crazy fucking need until he was standing before Dean with his perfect cock out, waiting to take him…. It suddenly left Dean gasping, a bead of precome dribbling from his dick, followed by another after hearing responding moans from Sam.

_Jesus fucking Christ. We’re not even touching each other._

Before he had a chance to wonder how this had even happened, whether they’d last long enough for the main event, why Sam had lube in his duffle, or how his little brother had gotten _so fucking good_ at all of this, his dick was being handled so perfectly he could weep. As a slippery hand stroked his cock, slick fingers began petting his throbbing hole, backing off when Dean groaned, leaving a single wet fingertip to rub thoughtful little circles around his entrance. Dean was still so fucking tight, despite Sam working hard to relax him, opening Dean up on his tongue until his jaw ached and then some.

Sam glanced up through his bangs, eyes blown as he hovered over Dean’s cock, tongue dancing out to curl into his brother’s leaking slit. Dean grunted, fighting the urge to thrust up into his brother’s mouth.

“This okay, Dean?” Sam whispered, pressing against his hole with intent. When his brother nodded – more enthusiastic than Sam was expecting, more than he could have ever hoped for – Sam sunk his middle finger to the first knuckle, thumb stretched up to stroke beneath Dean’s balls, mouth working against his dick.

“More, Sammy, please,” Dean begged, spreading his legs like a slut. Dean’s hole was slack and wet from being rimmed into the mattress and petted until he pleaded, and one lubed finger sunk in easily, a second worked in beside it. Sam pulled back to watch as he pulled two fingers out to the tips.  They sailed back in easily, searching and stroking as Dean writhed. By the time Sam found Dean’s prostate, fingers brushing against it just to enjoy Dean’s shocked, pleasure-stuck expressions, he had worked three fingers to the hilt, grinding up and fucking in without a hitch. 

“God, Sammy- what- I… Fuck!” Dean was full-on panting, ass fucked loose while Sam’s big hand fisted his cock.

“What, Dean, didn’t know you had a sweet spot?” Sam laughed to himself, quiet and breathy, as he rubbed mercilessly against the part of Dean that made his eyes roll back. “I don’t believe it for a second, Mr. Been-There-Done-That.”

Dean was seriously going to fucking combust if Sam didn’t stop talking like that.

“God, Sammy, not this. Never this,” Dean breathed, shuddering as Sam finally relented. The hand stroking his dick let go to caress Dean’s legs as Sam pulled his fingers free, one by one.

“Never?” Sam asked, trying to sound casual and failing. “You sure you can handle all of it, Dean?”

Sam was shocked, concerned, and mostly completely fucking awed that Dean was giving this to him. That, at least for right now, Dean was _his,_ more than anyone else had ever been.

“I want it,” Dean replied, quickly dodging the question. When he spread his legs, holding them up out of the way, Sam’s mouth went dry, and he dropped the conversation.

“Hands and knees,” Sam growled, squeezing his own dick as Dean fumbled to oblige. When his brother finally had his ass in the air, Sam dragged him back by the hips.

Spreading his brother’s cheeks with one hand, Sam rode two fingers back in, wiggling his tongue alongside them enthusiastically, as if Dean’s ass – lube and all – was the sweetest fucking he’d ever tasted. Dean’s hands eventually dropped out from beneath him, and he was bracing himself on his elbows, and before long, sobbing into the sheets.

“You know, Dean, could make you come, just like this,” Sam said softly, taking a moment to rest his jaw as he watched his brother, stretched on four fingers and taking it like he was born for it. Dean just groaned, offering up little pleading whimpers that were strangled into the mattress.

After a minute, he realized Dean had fingers wrapped around the base of his dick, stowing off his orgasm until he got what he wanted. Moaning, Sam turned to his own neglected cock, throbbing and painfully hard. He stroked it quickly, getting some much needed friction before gently slapping the sensitive head against Dean’s hole where his fingers were slipping free.

Dean whined as Sam started rubbing against his brother’s entrance with purpose, teasing them both before pushing the head in, panting at the resistance . The pressure left them both gasping, shaking. Sam began caressing Dean’s sides, considerately rubbing up his flanks as he rolled his hips forward. He had sunk halfway before crowding Dean’s ass up against him, reaching beneath his brother and taking his cock in hand. The pleasure from the firm strokes kept Dean hard and moaning as Sam worked his way in. As he buried himself to the hilt, Sam hunched over his brother and coaxing deep breaths from him with his own expanding lungs, chest flush against Dean’s back.

Sam focused his energy on keeping his hips still, reveling in the tight heat engulfing his neglected cock, letting Dean decide when he was ready, and how Sam was going to give it to him. Sam whispering praise into his brother’s ear as Dean acclimated to Sam’s girth, the pressure and pleasure of his manipulated muscles overwhelming every nerve in his body. As shuddery, gasping moans fell from Dean’s lips, he focused on his brother’s voice, the warm breath against the shell of his ear, the constellations of kisses and marks being nipped and sucked and peppered across the curve of his neck, over his shoulders, down his back. “God, Dean. Feel amazing… Give you anything you want.”

Dean nodded, blinking hard and pressing up into the sweet mouth against his skin. He only took a moment to adjust before he was rolling his hips forward into Sam’s slowing hand, encouraging a slightly faster stroke, and back, grinding into his brother’s pelvis and taking that massive cock like a champ, slow and forceful. His pace quickened, growing needy as Sam guided him into a deeper thrust, grinding up into Dean’s heat.

Dean’s body was shaking, chasing something, forcing himself back against Sam in a way so erratic it left him breathless and desperate. Sam groaned, strung out with pleasure but trying to guide his brother back to a pleasurable harmony in their pace. Finally clearing his head enough to think, he grabbed Dean’s hips, steadying him enough to gently pull out.

Dean whimpered, burying his face in his arms, half shocked at the loss, half terrified Sam was leaving him hanging, couldn’t go through with it, realized that he couldn’t possibly want his fucked up older brother. Instead, Sam tenderly turned him over, hushing Dean with a kiss and rocking their throbbing cocks together. Dean was going after it too intensely, fighting against Sam’s control – and as Sam hooked his hands around Dean’s ankles, pressing his knees to his chest, fluttering hole exposed as it clenched on nothing, begging to be fucked.

Dean sighed as Sam entered him again, the relief quickly morphing into a yell as Sam shifted, hard cock rubbing against his prostate. Dean grabbed at his brother, as if he were terrified Sam would move, or stop. “Fuck! FUCK! S-Sam! God, Sammy, please- please, I- I-”

 Sam shushed him gently, holding his brother firmly in place as he fucked up against Dean’s sweet spot, synching up their movements in a way that had Dean screaming and gripping at him. Each thrust punched a harsh breath out of Dean, a constant rhythm of, “Ah! Ah! Ah!” escaping his lips to mark each time Sam nailed his prostate, slowly rocking in and out of Dean’s perfect heat and relishing his surprised little noises.

Grinning to himself as Dean’s moans turned to strung-out sobs, Sam briskly picked up the pace, slamming into his brother, hard and fast.

Dean clawed his blunt nails down Sam’s back, screaming. As pleasure shot through his body, shaking from the force of the thrusts, Sam grabbed his brother’s jaw, bringing their mouths together before whispering, low and reverential, “That’s it, sweetheart. Just lie back and take it.”    

“Oh- oh fuck,” Dean whimpered, crying out as Sam’s dick filled him up again, finally falling still against the mattress as Sam’s wandering hand fondled his balls before taking his brother’s purpling cock in hand, grip tight and focused over the sensitive head.

Breathing heavy, Sam murmured praises over Dean’s lips, somehow more in control than Dean could fathom: “Feel so good, Dean. Look so pretty on my cock. Wanna make you feel good, give you the best dicking of your life-”

“First,” Dean gasped, body racing, so close to coming he could barely breathe. Sam narrowed in on Dean’s words, pulling his attention away from where he was entering his brother’s body, over and over.

Sam met Dean’s gaze through half-lidded eyes, trying to understand. “What Dean?”

“Not just the best,” he clarified, shaking from the scorching intensity of Sam’s full attention, “The first.”

Sam gasped at the realization, hand constricting around his brother’s cock as he came, long and hard. Dean’s stomach tightened, pleasure overwhelming his body as he shot his load between them, overwhelmed by the meaning of his own words, the feeling of Sam coming deep inside him.  

Sam barely held himself up, trying not to collapse his weight on his brother. His efforts were futile, though, as Dean reached up and pulled him down, wrapping his arms around his brother as they clung to each other, shaking and gasping through it.  

Dean fiercely met Sam’s mouth, afraid to let himself speak, of all the promises and fears that would spill out in hoarse whispers.  As their kisses grew lazy with exhaustion, Sam pulled out, rubbing over Dean’s sore entrance until his brother seemed comfortable. Finally, Sam forced himself up, hesitantly leaving to grab wet towels from the bathroom, returning to sleepily take on the aftercare of cleaning up.

Watching his brother through unfocused eyes, Dean wondered where this would go. He wondered if he was right all along, if Sam felt half the things that he felt, if it was meant to be part of their little fucked up forever. He wanted to ask Sam if this is when they were supposed to talk – even though it was the last fucking thing on the planet he wanted to do, because talking meant confessions and conclusions and disappointments. He wanted to ask if Sam was going to be here when he woke up in the morning.

As he searched for something to say, half hoping they didn’t half to say anything at all, Sam had finished cleaning them up – affectionate and playful like it was an extension of lovemaking itself – but quickly turned back to the bathroom, his expression suddenly thoughtful, troubled.

Dean’s heart sunk as Sam moved towards the opposite bed, pulling the covers back to one side. Before he could apologize, beg for Sam to be there when he woke up, Sam reached out and tugged at his hands, pulling Dean from the soiled sheets.

“Too messy. Can’t sleep.” Sam explained sleepily, dragging Dean with him into the clean bed. Sam drew the blankets over them, pulling Dean close against his chest. “S’good?”

“Damn good,” Dean replied, almost indignant that Sam had to ask.

Sam’s arms tightened around him. As he planted a kiss into his brother’s neck, Sam spoke in a voice that felt far too small and afraid to belong to the man that just consumed him completely, fucking him into the mattress until he was screaming and writhing and coming until he saw stars.  “Dean… this is okay, right? From now on? You want it too?”

Dean exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, shamelessly snuggling back into his brother’s arms.

“Yeah, Sammy. From now on.”


End file.
